Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Celeste’s POV

*****

Bloodoak Pack, Pack House, 12:45 PM

All night I’ve been staring out of my window anxiously, also occasionally looking at my phone. Searching for something. Anything that would hint at Azrael coming to see me.

He read my text. I saw the exact second when he did.

Yet he said nothing.

Immediately after Caelum and I had dinner, I rushed back to my room, waiting by the balcony. Surely if he was going to see me, he’d do it there. I knew the man enough to guess that.

Minutes turned to hours.

I’d already given up and headed back inside my room when my phone buzzed with a notification. My heart jumped into my throat.

I slung out the phone, staring at the screen. Expecting Azrael to text or call.

Instead, what I got was an odd text from Atlas:

"Heading back to Bloodoak. Something’s not right with the wards. If anything happens—be ready."

I stood still, not realising when the phone began trembling in my hands. "... He’s doing what?"

My instincts screamed right there and then that it was a bad idea. Without thinking twice, I dialled Atlas’ number, hoping to talk him out of it.

The call couldn’t connect, making me curse under my breath. "Atlas, what the fuck?"

Naturally, I thought of calling Luther next. To my surprise, just when I swiped into my contact list, his number blinked on my screen. Calling me.

I picked without hesitation. "Please tell me I’m not the only one Atlas sent that weird text."

"Well, good evening to you too, babe," Luther said with snark.

"Luther, come on."

"Alright, yes." He exhaled. "Something about going back to the academy, right?"

"Yes."

"And he didn’t tell you anything else other than that?"

"No," I paced toward my bathroom door with frustration. "Professor Amelia is still out there. There’s no telling if she’s still lurking around that forsaken academy to tighten some loose ends."

"I hear you loud and clear," Luther muttered. "So what do we do now? I’m literally on another continent and don’t know if I can find a witch for an accurate portal on time."

My other hand threaded through my hair. "Maybe... maybe he’ll be fine," it felt like I was trying hard to convince myself more than him.

"Yeah." Luther agreed after a beat. "It’s Atlas. He was able to hold his own against her the first time, right?"

I was about to agree... then felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. There was a soft tug in the bonds—one of them in particular.

"Cel?"

"Yeah, right," I answered too quickly. "... Luther... I think—"

A knock sounded on my balcony’s glass doors just then. I spun to it, my muscles tightening with apprehension. A figure stood in front of it, although I couldn’t make out their full body due to the curtains.

Not just anyone too.

Tall. Draped in that signature black coat.

"Azrael," I murmured, eyes widened. "Luther, I’ll call you back. Azrael’s here."

"Oh—you sure you’ll be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah..."

I took cautious steps toward the doors until I got hold of the curtains. I parted them open, finally able to see all of him. Then I opened the door, watching how he took a respectful step back.

"... Can I come in?"

I gawked. Unable to believe he was actually here after making me wait so long. My mouth parted, refusing to close for a moment.

"Oh, right," he raised a finger just then, taking off his sunglasses. Once those burning red orbs were visible, a small smirk curved the corner of his lips. "Now can I come in?"

I was able to catch my breath. "S–Sure. Of course." I made way for him to step in, forcing a smile. "Come in."

He strode in, arms behind his back. Each click of his boots added an extra layer of pressure in my chest. I inhaled, fists curling.

"I thought you wouldn’t be able to make it." I let out. "Scratch that— I thought you were mad at me and no longer wanted to talk to me."

That made him stop in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder, a brow raising. "Oh?"

I huffed. "Don’t ’oh’ me," A flick of my wrist made the French doors shut behind me. "You... you’re valid to be angry at me. I think. I was harsh. Didn’t give you the chance to explain or prove yourself—"

"Little miss." He pivoted to face me fully.

"—And then under the same breath I text you, asking you to come see me." I smiled wryly, head lowering. "I’m... sorry. Yes, it’s still weird as hell that you watched me since birth—but I... we still—"

Words escaped me when he crossed the distance between us in a blink. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t press his body against me.

Still, just his mere presence and the heat of him made me gulp.

"Celeste," he said quietly. "I’ve been cut off."

My brows furrowed. "Cut off...?"

"From her," he clarified. "From Nyx. The link with her is gone."

The words hit me harder than I expected.

"What?" I breathed, eyes widening. "Azrael... what does that even mean?"

He took a step closer.

Then another.

Until there was barely any space left between us.

"It means," he said, voice low, steady, "I’m no longer bound to her will. No longer reporting. No longer hers."

My heart thudded painfully against my ribs.

"And now?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

His hand lifted slowly. Carefully. Like I might disappear if he moved too fast. His fingers brushed my cheek, cold... but grounding.

"Now," he murmured, "I can be with you."

My breath hitched.

"Help you. Protect you. Do whatever it takes to stop whatever she’s planning."

His thumb grazed my skin, and gods—Why did that feel like everything?

"I should’ve told you," he added, quieter now. "About what I am. About everything." A faint, almost bitter smile touched his lips. "I understand if it unsettles you. If I—"

"It does," I cut in, barely above a whisper. He stilled as I added. "But not enough to make me want you gone."

Something flickered in his eyes.

Relief?

No.

Something deeper. More dangerous.

"I need you, Celeste," he said, and there was no hesitation this time. No mask. No distance. "Do you understand that?"

My pulse spiked.

"Immortality..." he exhaled softly, shaking his head. "It’s empty. Endless. Meaningless."

His gaze locked onto mine.

"Until you. You brought light into something that’s only ever known darkness," he continued, voice rougher now. "And I—"

I didn’t realise when I moved. Didn’t realise when my hands found his coat. Or when I pulled him down.

All I knew was... I kissed him.

And he froze for half a second. Before his hand slid to the back of my neck, deepening it.

My fingers curled into his coat as I leaned into him, my body responding before my mind could catch up. His other hand found my waist, steadying me like I might fall apart without him there.

When we finally pulled away, it was only barely.

Forehead against forehead. Breaths uneven.

Too close.

"Did you..." He started, voice lower now. "Did you get Atlas’ text?"

I nodded faintly. "Yeah... I did."

Concern flickered between us for a second.

Just a second.

Then the bond—It pulled. Refusing to let us stay rational.

My fingers tightened against him again, and whatever restraint was left, snapped.

His lips found mine again, and this time nothing was holding us back.

No hesitation. No overthinking.

Just need.

My back hit the mattress before I even realised he’d moved, a quiet gasp escaping me as he lifted me effortlessly. Like I was his.

The world outside the room faded.

Atlas.

Nyx.

Everything.

Gone.

All that remained was him.

And the way the bond burned between us was like it had a mind of its own. Neither of us tried to stop it.

His lips barely left mine when he started whispering like every word was meant only for me.

"Celeste..." my name fell from his lips like something sacred. "Do you even understand what you do to me?"

My breath hitched, fingers tangling tighter in his coat.

He pressed his forehead to mine again, eyes slipping shut like he was holding on by a thread.

"I’ve lived through centuries," he murmured. "Watched kingdoms rise and fall... felt nothing." A shaky exhale. "And then you..."

His hand slid up my arm, slower now. More controlled. "Now I feel everything."

Something shifted.

It was subtle. But I felt it.

His body tensed above me.

His breath stilled.

Then—he turned his head sharply to the side. Like he was fighting something.

"Azrael...?" I whispered.

He didn’t answer.

But I saw it.

The faint glint of white.

Fangs.

His jaw tightened, shoulders rigid as he pulled back slightly, putting space between us like it physically hurt him to stay close.

"I shouldn’t..." his voice came out strained. "Not like this."

My heart pounded harder. "Why not?"

He shook his head, still not looking at me. "Because I don’t trust myself."

That did something to me.

I pushed myself up slightly, reaching for him. "Azrael."

He stilled when my hands touched him.

I guided his face back toward mine slowly.

"No running," I murmured.

His eyes met mine again—conflicted.

"I want you," I said softly, certain of it.

Something in him snapped just then. Like a restraint finally giving way.

His hand came up to cup my neck, grounding himself for a second. Then he leaned in. His fangs brushed my skin first.

Testing.

Hesitating.

My breath caught—but I didn’t pull away or flinch.

"Celeste..." he whispered one last time.

And then... He bit.